


Mementos

by Viridian5



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-03
Updated: 2004-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiß hasn't been able to hold on to much over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mementos

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Mission 13: Bruch-- Rain of Revenge" and "Mission 25: Ende des Weiss -- To the Knights," as well as vague bits of "Mission 15: Duell-- Hunters of Revenge," the OVAs, the CDs, and _Glühen_. Vague, I swear!
> 
> I was talking to DEMITO about Aya's coats, and this happened. The coat mentioned in this story, the one he wore for Crashers, can be seen [here](http://viridian.shriftweb.org/rancostume-crashers.jpg).

Moving in to the new apartment left me with mixed feelings. Getting out of that damned trailer back into a room of my own again left me ecstatic, because as much as I liked the other guys living almost in their pockets for so long had driven me insane. No privacy at all. Sleeping in the same space with them had given me a knowledge of what they all sounded like while having hot dreams, and I didn't need to know that, especially where Omi was concerned. As many times as Aya had snapped on us, it amazed me that he hadn't lost it more often, given his personality and craving for space. So getting out of the trailer and into an actual room made me very happy.

It made me far less happy to see how little I had to move. A guy in his late 20s should have more than clothes and a few boxes. All those firebombings of our home over the years had taken a toll of all of our possessions--telling myself that I could freshen up my wardrobe with new stuff each time didn't make me feel much better--and living in a small trailer had limited what we could buy.

If the apartment hadn't been furnished this would be even more depressing. It didn't take much time to put my stuff away, which left me sitting in a bare room with nothing to do but stare at the walls. It still looked impersonal, like nobody lived here.

Like hell I could stay here right now.

When I walked out into the hall, I heard something thump in Ken's room. I didn't want to know. It would be a good idea to avoid him, then.

Omi, now Takatori Mamoru, wouldn't be moving in with us.

That left Aya to entertain me. As I opened his door a bit more, he looked over his shoulder at me, making his braid whip around a little. As usual, I had to fight the urge to tug on it. I kept asking him if he would grow his hair until it reached his ass, and he sneered at me every time.

Aya owned even less than I did but seemed to be taking longer to organize things. Right now he was ignoring me and arranging his books on a shelf. In the trailer, they had to stay in a box. On the dresser he had his picture of his sister set up. A smaller photo, this one of her with Sakura, had been tucked into the edge of the frame. I wondered who had taken that picture and given it to him. He'd killed himself for years in the hopes that she'd wake up from her coma, but now that she was awake he felt too tainted to spend time with her. I suspected that he stalked her sometimes, so maybe he'd snapped that photo.

He kept ignoring me, trying to will me out of existence, so I said, "Aya, I'm bored."

"I'm not your nanny."

"If you were, you could spank me for bad behavior."

"You'd enjoy it too much." But he still wouldn't face me, and he moved that same book around five times. I hated to be ignored.

I almost sat on a book when I sat on the bed. A photo album. It didn't have much in it. If I had to entertain myself, I might as well.

He only had one page of family photos. I remembered him saying once, in a rare confessional moment when he had a head injury, that the photos he had came from family friends, since his home and possessions had been utterly destroyed. I couldn't help wondering where those friends had been when a freshly orphaned kid had taken on the financial burden of his sister's medical bills alone and started to plan revenge on the man who'd murdered his parents, nearly killed his sister, and destroyed his life. I had to flip past that page, because it hurt too much to see Ran and his sister looking so happy and innocent alone or with their parents or family "friends." At least I had a taste of a normal adult life before everything went to hell for me.

Then there were some shots of Aya with some other people and flowers. Then--

Holy shit!

"Yoji!" Aya grabbed for the album, but even in my shock I had a deathgrip on it.

"Are those evening gloves you're wearing here?" I asked as I stared.

He gave me a killing look as he answered, "Those are the sleeves to my coat."

Right. Because the sleeves had been unzipped at the shoulders, then held up on his arms by all the straps wrapped around them, baring the creamy skin of his upper arms, which looked even paler against all the black he wore. I knew from his mission outfits that he had a taste for kinky clothing, but the outfit he wore in this picture was kinkier, with even more straps everywhere and a collar. How long did it take to get into and out of that thing? It was dead sexy and so appropriate for him. His looks said "touch me" but everything else about him suggested that you could never break him out of his shell or reach him.

"Where's this coat now?" Dammit, I wanted to see Aya in it.

"Gone." His tone suggested a painful incident he had no intention of talking about.

Gone. That was a crime.

With the shock of the outfit processed, I started to notice other details in the photograph. Aya had been caught in motion, by surprise, while walking with a man I didn't know. His eyes were flash-photo red, and the flash had also made his skin appear paler. He looked a little more open and so _young_, so now I felt torn between wanting to undo those all those straps with my teeth and throw a blanket over his shoulders to protect him.

"You killed people dressed like that?"

"No." He had this look on his face.... I'd gotten better at interpreting his expressions over the years, mentally filtering out the surliness and turning up the volume on his eyes and the set of his mouth. It let me see sadness and wistfulness on his face now where most people would see nothing.

Sometimes, when he was really pissing me off, I wondered why I put so much effort into trying with him, but in calmer moments I knew why. In a time when the rest of us had become colder, more unstable, and deadlier, when I couldn't even trust myself anymore, Aya remained constant. Given his revenge and his sister waking up, he was still surly, close-mouthed, and short-tempered. Perhaps that night that had changed his life had so warped him that he couldn't change that much more now. He'd become a little quieter, a little mellower, but that was all. Anything new I found out about him only added layers and more depth instead of changing the picture.

We'd known each other for years, and I didn't have too many people left alive that I could say that about.

As I watched him in his sadness, I wanted to touch him. I'd tried in the past, but he wouldn't let me reach him even when I had my hands or lips touching his skin. I couldn't keep him because I never had him to begin with.

I loved him for staying the same, for being my stable point, but the person he continued to be couldn't be reached.

Aya took the album from my slack grip. "Still bored?" he asked softly.

I didn't touch him. I _couldn't_ touch him. "No. I'll see you later, Aya."

Everything I touched I broke anyway.

 

### End


End file.
